Passion
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: [MacStella] She smiled, and for the first time in his adult life, Mac Taylor was sure he was a passionate person. postep The Dove Commission


Title: Passion

Author: Peach

Disclaimers: They are not mine, and I'll let you know that I am broke to a point where I can't afford to spend $$ on a Starbuck coffee, so, don't even think about suing me. You won't even get your lawyering fees back.

Genre: What else? Angst & Romance with a little fluff thrown in (though I honestly don't think the fluff should be there, but then, I digress)

Spoiler: Which one are we at now? Right, 01.18: The Dove Commission... Yay, I'm finally all caught up! Wait... we had a new episode already, right… darn it

A/N: There is someone who sent me an E-mail (gush someone likes my fics!) and ask me where she can find stories for the beginning til ep. 14... sorry, my cpu crashed and I lost my E-mails so I can't remember who you are, but sweetie, I've been lazy and have not yet written them yet... at the rate I'm going, I wonder if I'll ever get to them... It's a miracle I'm finishing this one, you know… sometimes I'm amazed at myself for the crappiness of my writing… Trust me, I had to throw away 2 / 3 drafts for this particular episode before I dare to present you with this piece I laughingly call a finished product…

Now, enough with my blabbing... on with the story... and remember, feedback feeds me so I have the energy to write grin okay... a more solemn mood, please...

* * *

Mac stood still in the place and watched as the guard took Markoni away. Another one of their own had gone back on the promise they made when they joined the force; another one had slipped to the wrong side of the law.

A crime of passion. That was what he called it in the interrogation room. A crime of passion. He wondered if he, himself, would do something like that. Did he have passion at all? Would he do what Markoni did for passion's sake?

"Hey, you wanna go grab some coffee?" Stella's voice came from his side, and he was pulled back to the presence from his thoughts. "Maybe we can talk?"

He turned and was about to decline with some lame excuses when he saw Stella's expression. It was not one of confusion and upsets as he had expected (he had automatically assumed she, too, was troubled by the fact that another one of them would soon be joining the many criminals they had helped put away); it was one of concern. Realization dawned. She wanted the talk for him, not for herself.

She was the best partner he had worked with, one that was totally in tune with him, one that actually understood him and knew what he was thinking without the need of verbalizing his thoughts, and he was glad, for once, the higher ups didn't listen to his complaints and protests and insisted on her transfer from narcotics.

When he took over CSI as head of the crime lab a little less than a decade ago, they were still a small department with a few lonesome scientists. When the higher ups had informed him of their intention to bring in Stella Bonasera as his partner – "because it's policy that all detectives need to have a partner in the field," they had said – his first reaction was whether her fiery and outgoing personality – which he heard from the ever trust-worthy grapevine – would be compatible to the kind of work they did in CSI. Of course, what was left unsaid was his doubt of their ability to work together given his calm nature to her upbeat approaches.

The higher-ups, as usual, ignored his protests and a month later, Stella Bonasera graced the NYPD crime lab with her bright personality and infectious laughs. It was like she had brought the sun with her as she entered a room, and soon, the formerly dull scientists working in the orderly and quiet labs adapted her cheerful methods and transformed into a more energetic and engaging group.

He was, of course, still doubtful of their being able to work together, and it took a while before he would allow himself to smile at her jokes and sarcasm. The first time he did, she responded with the brightest smile he had seen as she patted – literally – herself on the back.

It went without saying that Stella made him pay for his aloofness in the beginning. He endured weeks of teasing and being poked fun of in her presence, and he, surprisingly, tolerated them with some good humour. After his initial reluctance, he had to admit the difference in their personality actually worked out very, very well. Where he was overly serious or strung tight, she would somehow be able to find a way to get him to relax; when she was over zealous or moving ahead of herself, he would use his calmness and patience to rein her in. They had numerous fights over the years, uncountable number of clashes that, in a less perfect partnership, would result in the transfer of one of them. It didn't happen though. They stuck together and worked out the differences. And they both grew up a little more, learned about each other a little more, and more importantly, learn about themselves a little more.

"Mac?" her worried voice came again and he smiled a little sheepishly.

"Sorry," he waved his hand to the general direction Markoni was led, "I was just thinking about this whole crime of passion thing."

She smiled understandingly and nodded, "I know. Sometimes it's mind boggling how people act."

They looked at each other with mutual understanding of the brutality and horrendous acts all people were capable of. Both were quiet.

"So, you said something about coffee?" he broke the comfortable silence between them.

"Sullivan's okay?" she asked, already heading toward the building that housed all the forensic labs, and he followed her.

"Sure."

They made their way back to the crime lab in companionable silence. The few times Mac turned to look at Stella, she looked tired, which, he was sure, was mirrored by his own expression. They parted ways when they reached the CSI building, Stella to her desk and Mac to his office. They didn't need words between them, but by customs, they met each other at the elevator, all ready to go.

The drive over to Sullivan's was also without the intrusion of verbalized thoughts. Now that they were out of the office and into the busy streets of New York, Stella looked more exhausted. Mac knew his partner well, and he understood her need to appear strong in the field of work still dominated by males. He also appreciated her trust in him, that she allowed herself to be open and relaxed in his presence and knew he would still respect her as his equal the next day.

The place was crowded for a week night, but not packed. They found a booth to the end of the shop easily and slid in.

"So," she started after they had placed their order with the waitress, "how are you holding up?'

He shrugged, "As best as can be expected, I guess."

"You were deep in thoughts when they hurled him away," She glared at him a little, "and even after he was brought out of the room."

"I guess it just got me thinking."

"Wanna share?" she prompted.

Mac smiled at her attempt to get him to open up. She often accused him of locking all his thoughts and feelings inside and said that that was the worst thing he could do to himself emotionally. It was true that Stella Bonasera was not a patient person, but she could be surprisingly tolerant when trying to get him to talk.

"Would you leave me alone if I say no?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to look at her.

"No way," she answered with mock seriousness, and both smiled at their banters.

"Then why bother asking?"

"Well, how else will I get to get you to talk to me?"

He shrugged and smiled at her good naturedly. Sure, Stella Bonasera wasn't one to let go easily. She was passionate about things she cared about. There was that word again – passion. He wondered if Stella would kill in a crime of passion.

"You know, the whole point of having a talk with drinks is so that we will vocalize whatever thoughts we have in our head," she interrupted his thoughts teasingly. "You actually have to talk, Mac."

"I was just thinking, Stella," he shook his head.

"About?" she prompted, looking at him expectantly, but he could see her patience was about to run out. He had stalled long enough.

"Whether I will do what Markoni did, you know," he shrugged, "crimes of passion."

"No, you won't," she answered firmly and knowingly.

Mac merely raised an eyebrow to her certainty.

"You are too honourable," she said by ways of explaining. "You have ethics and you hold yourself to a higher standard than most people; you will never do anything that is against the laws of the society."

"You mean I am cold and uncaring," he challenged, suddenly feeling loss about himself. His mind wondered back to what prompted Markoni to kill: the loss of a woman he claimed to love. He had experienced that once, with Claire, before the horrible September morning when she died. He was about to call their lawyer to get the divorce going when he heard the news of her death.

He still mourned, but never once did he have the urge to kill the one who stole his love from him.

Did that mean he didn't love Claire with all his had to offer? Did that mean he was incapable of being passionate, even with the woman he had professed his undying love and promised 'til death do them part?

"You care," she corrected and stopped the downward spiral he was taking himself through emotionally. "You just have a different way of showing it. You don't resort to violence, Mac. You have too much self-control and honour to stoop so low. Being passionate about something doesn't always mean having to go all out and be all gung-ho about it. You are passionate about your work, and it shows even though you're mostly quiet and calm in the lab."

He smiled softly at her words. Stella Bonasera was no doubt good for his self-esteem. She cared, and that made her all the more endearing.

"The thought of killing never crossed my mind when I learned of the other man," he admitted to Stella, voicing out the root of the worries that were flooding him at the moment. "Never. I just chose to let go."

Stella looked shocked for a moment, and Mac realized why quickly: he never exactly told her about his problems with Claire. Sure, she knew him well enough to know that something was bothering her that summer, but she never came out right to ask him, and he offered the minimal.

To her credit, she recovered quickly and moved on, "That just shows you're not one to act irrationally."

"Or that I am incapable of giving all I have in a relationship," he desperately wanted that not to be true.

"No," she shook her head sadly. "You gave all you had and more. You were willing to take the burden and pain and let her have what she wanted. You didn't publicize it like Markoni did, but that was the sign that you cared, that you wanted the best for the woman you loved, that you loved her with so much passion that you were willing to let her go. You were not a coward, Mac, because I know you and you don't back from a fight. You truly believe she deserved the happiness and you were willing to allow her that joy regardless what emotional holes that will drill into your soul."

Mac sat and thought about what Stella had said. His passion. She believed he was passionate, and that was somehow soothing, to know that Stella didn't think of him as a cold bastard who cared nothing but evidence and facts, no emotions.

He looked across the table to see Stella watching him closely, and he allowed himself to be open with what he felt, to let his feelings show in his eyes. Her eyes became wider in surprise and Mac let out a sigh of relief when similar emotions mirrored in her expressive green ones.

Silently, his hand reached over the table and covered hers gently. She didn't pull away.

"You were probably right to say that I care about my work," he started softly, many thoughts running in his mind and all of them with one single intent and purpose: let Stella know what he was thinking and what he felt, "but that is no the only thing I feel strongly about."

She waited. Instead of prompting him or asking question, she waited for him to take his time.

Applying the slightest pressure, he squeezed her hand with his on the table and picked it up to hold it gently.

"I feel very strongly about you, too," he admitted finally. Suddenly, the crowded diner housed only the two of them when he picked up her hand and kissed the back gently, softly, almost reverently.

She smiled, and for the first time in his adult life, Mac Taylor was sure he was a passionate person.


End file.
